


More Than Just a Dream

by kbs_was_here



Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin, Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-24
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 16:46:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1517846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kbs_was_here/pseuds/kbs_was_here
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn Fabray finds a new roommate who maybe reminds her of someone else. Charlotte Johanssen is having the same exact experience. Except neither of them are content with any kind of replacement for their respective someone elses.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From time to time I pinch myself  
> Because I think my girl mistakes me for somebody else  
> And every time she takes my hand  
> All the wonders that remain become a simple fact
> 
> "Out of My League"  
> Fitz and the Tantrums

It’s junior year and Quinn’s so over living on campus, regardless of Yale’s encouragement for most students to embrace the campus lifestyle for the duration of their entire education. It’s not that Quinn hates it, or anything, she just wants some separation, some time to herself without being caught up in a theme party or a study group that isn’t for any of her classes. She wants a kitchen all to herself and maybe access to laundry facilities where people don’t touch wet clothes that aren’t their own.

She can’t afford a place by herself, so she knows she’ll need a roommate, which means she she’ll still be sharing common areas, but not with an entire dorm floor. She also knows all the buildings she’s considering are still home to her college peers, but most of them are at least upperclassmen or even grad students, so her hopes for a quieter home life aren’t completely ridiculous.

Though, after checking out the first couple of possibilities on her list, she worries she was too optimistic about the differences between on and off campus life. Especially when the girl at potential apartment number two offered her a Jell-O show upon arrival.

She doesn’t want to be cliche to assume that the third time will be any kind of a charm, but when the door opens to reveal a small framed brunette who doesn’t offer any kind of alcoholic beverage as she greets her, when she simply says, “You must be Quinn. Hi, I’m Charlotte,” there’s a sense of relief that maybe, just maybe, her roommate search is coming to a close.

“It’s pretty basic. That would be your room, there,” Charlotte points toward an open door that leads to an empty space that’s about the same size as Quinn’s most recent dorm room. “Kitchen has all the major appliances, laundry’s downstairs… um, no cable, but wifi’s included in the rent.”

Quinn nods, taking in the sight of the apartment. It’s nothing out of the ordinary, just two bedrooms, living room, kitchen with a cute little dining nook, and a bathroom. But what’s really catching her attention are the shelves that sit across from the plaid sofa, the shelves that are crammed full of books. She can’t help herself when she walks a little closer to let her eyes take in the rows of titles. Austen, Twain, Atwood, Roth, Bradbury, Woolf, and Crichton are just a small representation of the variety of authors that take up the shelf space.

“English major?” Quinn asks.

Charlotte nods. “But those were all from home. Most of them, anyway. I probably have three times as many on my Kindle. Plus…” She turns the knob to the other bedroom door and pushes it open. Even just from where Quinn’s standing, she can see several more packed bookcases. “Though, now I probably just made you think I’m a hoarder or something.”

Quinn laughs. “No. It’s… I get it. I had my mom send me more than a few boxes of books from home when I came out here and that was on top of the half a dozen boxes I’d already packed.”

“You should see me when they have their big sale at Whitlock’s,” Charlotte says, and Quinn immediately knows what she means, because she’d spent way too much money on her first trip to that same used bookstore.

“No, I know. It’s like torture and heaven, all at once.”

“Yeah,” and there’s a lull as Charlotte looks from Quinn to the ground to her rows of books. “So, um… yeah, if you’re interested, uh… or actually, I guess I should tell you a little more about me. I’m quiet, I study a lot, I’m usually in for the weekend with Netflix, though I do sometimes go out. But I’m not, like, into parties that much. I mean, if I had a roommate who wanted to have people over, that’s fine, as long as it’s not all the time and not crazy. I do have a couple friends who come up from Stoneybrook or Stamford, on occasion, who like to force me to go out in public so I don’t turn into an old spinster cat woman, I guess.”

The look Charlotte’s giving her makes Quinn think this girl has had to explain herself to people before, to explain why she’s so quiet, to make her desire for privacy seem reasonable.

“I think you basically just described my exact desired existence. I spent all last semester trying to find time and space to myself. Which is to say that I’m a quiet person, I like my space… and my always wanting to make headway on my Netflix queue.” She smiles and Charlotte returns it and it feels like the beginning of a friendship. A nice, quiet, books and movies kind of friendship. “I do have some friends who like to just show up from New York and they’re a little…” Quinn considers how to describe Kurt and Santana. “Brash. But they’re good friends. Probably also worried about the same cat lady thing.”

When Quinn happily bounds down the stairs, new keys in hand, she’s thrilled that she may well be rounding out the remainder of her time in New Haven with someone who understands literary theory, someone who won’t think she’s being standoffish if she wants to stay in her bedroom all weekend, someone who knows the value of ordering in Chinese and binging on Downton Abbey.

She tells herself it has nothing to do with the fact that Charlotte is about five foot three, with wavy dark hair and soulful brown eyes.

* * *

“What’s she like?”

“Nice.” Charlotte purposely switches windows to check her Twitter feed but half of Becca is still visible in the partially obscured Skype window and she can tell her best friend isn’t going to be satisfied with that. “She’s a Theater Studies major.”

“So, an actress?”

“Maybe? I don’t know.”

“Where’s she from?”

“Um…” Charlotte hesitates as she pulls up Quinn’s Facebook profile. “Ohio.”

“Did you even ask her any questions or are you just trolling for a Craigslist Killer?”

“We talked about plenty and she filled out the application. I have her social security number for god’s sake. Relax. My own mother didn’t ask me this many questions.”

“Yeah, well she should have since she’s paying for the place.”

“I told her I could start covering it on my own, but she’s worried about me falling into debt or something. I at least got her to let me pay the utilities.”

“You’re the most backward person, ever. No one begs their parents to let them pay bills.”

“I just want to be a normal college student.”

“Well, you suck at it. Did you at least tell this Kim girl about your hermit-like tendencies?”

Charlotte rolls her eyes and extends her middle finger to the webcam. “It’s fine, okay? Her name is Quinn. She likes that I have a home library and she seems--”

“--nice, I remember.” Becca pauses, giving Charlotte a false sense of security that maybe she’s finished with the third degree, but then her friend asks, “Is she hot?”

“God, I’m not planning to sleep with her!”

“No one plans to sleep with their roommate, but it happens.”

“She’s not… I don’t even know if she’s… I mean, she’s probably straight.”

“Yeah, bookish theater major girls are usually never into women. Link me.”

“What?”

“Her Facebook.”

“I’m not going to let you Facebook stalk my roommate.”

“It is my job as your best friend to make sure that she’s not a serial killer.”

“She’s not a serial killer.” But Charlotte’s already pasting the link into the chat box.

“We’ll see. Someti-- Holt shit, Charlotte are you kidding me?”

“What?”

“This is the girl you’re going to be living with?”

Charlotte double checks the link to make sure she didn’t send some random profile to Becca. “Um, yes?”

“She looks like Stacey.”

“She does not.”

“Uh, gorgeous blonde in a blazer?”

“She wasn’t wearing one when she was here. And yeah, okay, she’s attractive but she does not look like Stacey.”

“This is worse than an ax-murderer moving in.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“I’m being realistic. You’re going to get hung up on her and then she’ll think you’re weird and then she’ll either move out or decide to passive-aggressively renovate the bathroom while you’re sleeping.”

“That’s not even something that would actually happen.”

“You don’t even know this girl.”

“I’ve at least met her. You haven’t. You’d probably like her.”

“Probably. Because I like Stacey, too. But I’m not in love with her.”

“I’m not in love with Stacey.”

“Right. Do I need to email you the screencaps of your drunk tweets from last year?”

Charlotte sighs. She understands where Becca is coming from, but Quinn is nothing like Stacey. They barely even resemble each other.

Seriously. Stacey’s eyes are blue. Quinn’s are… maybe green? Charlotte wasn’t really looking.


	2. Chapter 2

When Quinn moves in, it’s almost eerie how well she gets along with Charlotte. They like the same music, they don’t bother each other when they want to be alone, they’re both obsessed with the same Thai place, which is where they’ve ordered take-out from on their first Saturday night together as roommates. Even though Quinn’s been there for the better part of a week, their schedules haven’t allowed them to just sit and get to know each other, until now.

They’re sitting on the floor of the living room, paper cartons spread across the coffee table in front of them.

“You said you have friends that come up from New York, but you’re from Ohio, right?” Charlotte asks, dipping her chopsticks into a box of lemon chicken.

“Mmhmm,” Quinn responds, chewing quickly so she can answer. “It’s kind of a weird thing, because a lot of people I know from high school moved to New York. I guess because a lot of them are into music and performance.”

“But you ended up at Yale.”

“Yeah. But I was accepted before most of them even knew they wanted to go to New York. One of them, Rachel, was always planning on it. She’s actually on Broadway, now.”

“Really? That’s awesome. My friend Becca’s sister went to Alvin Ailey and dances with their company now. I think that’s the closest connection I have to the New York theater scene. Bec and Byron like to go see shows pretty regularly, so I do get to see some stuff.”

“Is Byron her boyfriend?”

Charlotte snorts out a laugh. “God, no. He’s gay. What show is your friend in?”

“Funny Girl.”

“Oh my god, I saw that one! Um… you said her name is Rachel, right? Yeah, I saw her. She was really good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Byron’s super critical and even he thought she was great.”

Quinn smiles to herself, feeling a sense of pride in hearing how absolute strangers are fans of Rachel’s work. “I never doubted her for a minute.”

“So, you went to high school with a celebrity. Maybe they’ll interview you for her E! True Hollywood Story.”

“Maybe.” Quinn wonders what she’d even say. “We weren’t exactly friends for part of it.”

“But you are now.”

“Yeah.” And that’s enough to make Quinn either need to change the conversation or excuse herself to go brood over what might have been if she’d just have had more initiative to express herself to Rachel, once upon a time. She chooses to stick around and socialize. “How about you? Growing up this close to New York, there must have been someone who made it to the top. Or… I guess dancing at Alvin Ailey is a pretty big deal.” 

Charlotte nods, but then she adds, “Derek Masters went to my elementary school.”

“Wait… the kid from PS 162? And that vampire movie?”

“Yep. My friend’s sister, the dancer? She actually used to be his babysitter.”

“That’s crazy.”

There’s a shrug from Charlotte as she switches the chicken out for the carton of rice. “Looking back, it wasn’t really that big of a deal. But when you’re eight, it seems pretty incredible. Or maybe I just didn’t get out that much.”

“When I was eight, I didn’t get out at all. And my sister used to make fun of me because I just wanted to read all the time.”

“Same, except I didn’t have a sister.”

“Frannie’s four years older so she thought she was hot shit because she was skinny and blonde and in middle school.”

Charlotte looks over Quinn. “You weren’t skinny and blonde as a kid?”

“No. God, no.” Quinn gestures toward herself with her chopsticks. “This took some work. So did… uh…” There’s an embarrassed tap of her forefinger to her nose. “This.” A slow nod from Charlotte is all Quinn gets in reply and she’s thankful that there aren’t any follow up questions about it. “Anyway, short version is, I was an unhappy kid for a while, but I changed that. You… don’t have any brothers or sisters?”

“Nope. Only child, working professional parents, lots of nights with babysitters.”

“Was it weird?”

“Maybe? I don’t really know otherwise.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“When I was growing up, our town had this group of girls who basically ran a professional babysitting business, so it wasn’t like a random person coming over all the time. I actually had one I would request, all the time. She was really cool. Probably the closest thing I had to a sister growing up. Though, it’s kind of weird to think about, now…” The pause is short, but Charlotte is lost in thought during it. “I was just really attached to her.”

“Do you know what she’s doing now?”

“Yeah, I mean I talk to her still. She’s in New York working as a forensic accountant.” Quinn’s eyebrow raises at the mention of the profession and Charlotte figures it’s worth a little further explanation. “For fraud investigations and stuff.”

“So, she’s basically a money detective.”

“Yeah, kind of. It suits her. She’s always been good with numbers and it sounds a little edgier than regular accounting, which is probably exactly why she got into it.”

“I wonder if Brittany knows about that,” Quinn muses.

“Brittany?”

“A friend of mine. She’s a little… unconventional, but she’s ridiculously smart. That sounds like something she’d think was fun.”

“If you want the number to Stacey’s firm, I can get it.”

“Britt’s still at MIT, right now. But I’ll see if she’s interested.” Quinn feels compelled to extend her own brand of perks to her new friend. “And hey, I’m supposed to go see Rachel next month, if you and your friends want to come, I’m sure I can get some comp tickets.“

“I think Byron might kiss you if you did that. Strictly platonic, of course.”

“That’s good, because he doesn’t sound like my type, at all.”

“Not really into musical theater fanboys?”

“The musical theater part is fine,” Quinn realizes this is her make it or break it moment. This is still new ground for her, but this is also a new friendship with a person she’s going to see every day. “I’m just not really into guys.”

It’s Charlotte’s turn to quirk an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Quinn shifts, setting her food down. “I mean… I’ve only dated guys, really. But last year, it was kind of like… I realized I really don’t feel anything.”

“And you think you might with women?”

“Okay, so…” Quinn laughs a little, to herself. “I’ve only dated guys but I’ve definitely slept with a female friend of mine. And it was… pretty eye opening.”

“That was last year?”

“Two years ago. I think I just assumed I was supposed to be going through a college thing.”

“Maybe you’re bi,” Charlotte offers.

“Maybe. I just… I really thought it would work out with Puck… that’s the guy I was seeing last year.”

“I’m sorry, did you say ‘Puck’?”

“Yeah, I know. Anyway, he basically knows me better than any other guy I’ve dated, we’ve been through a lot together, and he really liked me. Still likes me. He always says he understands my crazy. Which sounds awful, but that’s his way of saying he loves me.”

“But you’re not into him. As a boyfriend.”

Quinn shakes her head. “Apparently not.”

“And this girl you hooked up with…”

“Oh god, I could never date her. We’d kill each other.”

“But it… was good? When you… you know…”

“Yeah. It really, really was.”

“Yeah, I think you might be kind of gay. I can say that because I’m a certified lesbian and everything.”

Quinn laughs. “I didn’t realize there was a certification process.”

“It’s a lot of paperwork.” Charlotte leans back against the base of the sofa. “I’ve kind of known it about myself for a long time. By the time I was in high school, I didn’t give a crap about the guys who were trying to ask me out and all I wanted was to do was spend time with this girl, Vanessa. Byron’s sister, actually. And then when I left for college, I was pretty clear on who I am and my mom was just, like, emailing me these websites about lesbian safe sex and it was super embarrassing.”

“That is probably something my mom would never do.”

“Well, mine’s a doctor, so she’s always been open about sex and stuff. I was the one who was really awkward about it.”

“You mom sounds pretty great.”

“She is. She just worries, I think.”

“Like moms do,” Quinn replies with a sigh. “You want to tackle the Netflix queue?”

“Yeah, let me just put this stuff in the fridge.”

As Charlotte collects the containers of leftover food, Quinn powers on the television and opens the Netflix app. There’s something nice and easy about the way she can hang out with Charlotte, like a familiarity, even though they’ve just met.

She likes it. She likes it a lot.


	3. Chapter 3

The second week after Quinn’s arrival is also the first week of classes, so they really aren’t home at the same time, ever, so Charlotte’s home alone when she realizes something is missing from the top row of her bedroom bookshelves. At first, she just figures Quinn’s borrowed a book, because they’ve already established an open exchange policy between their personal libraries. And, that’s really all that’s happened. Quinn borrowed a book. Charlotte just hadn’t thought to tell her not to borrow that book, in particular.

She casually enters Quinn’s room, which isn’t any kind of violation because, again, open book exchange happening here, but she’s not looking at the shelves, she’s looking around the room. Right there, on the nightstand, on top of a tidy stack of another book and a magazine, is a hardback copy of The Cricket in Times Square.

When Quinn comes home later, there’s still a copy sitting there, just not the same one.

“Uh… hey, Charlotte?” Quinn asks, book in hand as she pops her head in the doorway of her roommate’s bedroom.

“Yeah?”

“Did you… um… this isn’t the copy I was reading.”

“I know. I…” Charlotte closes her laptop to look up at Quinn from her spot on the bed. “The copy you had is… not a reader copy? That one is.”

“O… kay.” Quinn looks down at the paperback in her hand. “But you’re okay with me reading it?”

“Oh, sure. Absolutely. Just… the other one was a gift and I didn’t think to mention it to you when we talked about sharing books.”

There’s a look of realization that passes over Quinn’s face. “It’s from your old babysitter. You know what, I saw the note written in the front and I should have realized.”

“She gave it to me the first time she move back to New York. I was just a kid. I’ve had it forever and it’s…”

“Special, I get it.”

“Sorry to be so weird about it.”

“No, it’s okay. But… are there any other ones I shouldn’t be handling?”

“Everything else is fair game.”

“Cool. I really am sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s really okay.” Charlotte isn’t even sure why it matters to her, anyway. It’s just a book.

“Okay. Hey, I was thinking about doing a breakfast for dinner kind of a thing. You want any french toast.”

“That sounds perfect, actually.”

“I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”

“I can help you.” Charlotte’s already up off the bed before Quinn can insist otherwise.

In the kitchen, as Quinn preps the batter for the french toast, she glances over her shoulder to ask, “Is she part of why you love reading so much?”

“What?”

“The babysitter. Stacey.”

“Oh, um… no. I was already big on it before she came around. I guess she influenced my tastes a little though. She’d bring books over that I hadn’t read before. A lot of older stuff. A Wrinkle In Time, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Little Women… I probably would have discovered them all on my own, too, but she made things really accessible.”

“Is she that much older than you?” Quinn held her hand out so Charlotte could pass her the bread.

“Not really. It felt like it, but she was twelve or thirteen when she first started watching me.”

“That’s so weird, right? How a few years seems like such a big deal when you’re a kid?”

“I know. She and her friends seemed so mature and really they were just in junior high.”

Quinn laughs. “I was such a mess in junior high.”

“Yeah, when did your big makeover happen?”

“Right before high school. My dad got a new job and we moved and I just took advantage of the chance to start over. I went from being a chubby awkward kid to cheerleading captain.”

“Damn, look out. You were a cheerleader?” It’s been easy for Charlotte not to objectify her roommate, despite the fact that Quinn is completely gorgeous. Their fast friendship has made it easy not to think about her as anything other than a kindred spirit, but… the mental image of Quinn in a pleated skirt is appealing.

“Captain,” Quinn corrects and there’s a commanding quality to her voice that’s new. It’s also making it even more difficult to shake the mind picture Charlotte’s drafted up. “Hold on, watch this for a second?” She waves her spatula toward the toast in the pan on the stove. 

Charlotte makes sure nothing burns and Quinn back in about a minute with a couple yearbooks in hand.

“Hey, I believe you when you say you were captain.”

“But I want you to know I’m telling the truth when I say I was heading up an national championship squad.” Quinn opens the first book to a full color spread where a much younger version of herself stands with a group of cheerleaders. “Meet the McKinley High Cheerios.”

Charlotte looks it over and, yeah, she’s not going to be able to forget what her roommate looks like in the red and white uniform. Not anytime soon, anyway. “Wait, this says you were a freshman.”

“Yep.”

“You were a freshman. And the captain.”

“Like I said, I was starting over. I like starting over on top.”

“Wow,” Charlotte flips to the next page, not sure what she’s looking for and she continues on through the pages until she gets to the student section, looking for Quinn. She only makes it to the first page, the kids A through C, when Quinn shakes her head and closes the book. Charlotte’s able to catch a quick glimpse of a picture that’s been scribbled over, with something written next to it. “Someone you didn’t like very much?”

“I was young and stupid. And anyway, this one is more relevant to me now.” Quinn sets the second yearbook down, open to a page for the glee club.

“This is… not cheerleading.” Charlotte easily finds Quinn in the picture, still dressed in red and white, but not the uniform from the previous photo. 

“No, it’s not. Things changed that year and not because I wanted them to.” Quinn taps her own image. “If you can’t tell, I’m totally pregnant in that picture.”

“Yeah, right,” Charlotte laughs. But when Quinn switches out the french toast in the pan for another piece without laughing along, it makes Charlotte look again. “Oh my god. Really?”

“I got kicked off the Cheerios and these became some of my best friends. This girl let me live with her when my parents kicked me out. Well, technically, I stayed with my boyfriend first.” Quinn indicates toward the tallest guy in the photo. “But…” Her hesitation seems to be nostalgic rather than uncertain as she lingers on his face for the moment. “But, uh, this guy here, the one with the stupid mohawk, was actually the father. And when that came out, it was kind of a mess. So, Mercedes proved to be a really great friend and I stayed with her until my mom asked me to come back home.”

Charlotte notices the french toast is getting a little hot in the pan, so she lowers the flame. “Did you…” She isn’t sure if she’s supposed to ask this next question, but she’s curious. Especially since Quinn doesn’t have a child with her, right now.

But this isn’t new territory for Quinn, it seems, because she immediately reads the look on Charlotte’s face. “I gave her up for adoption. Puck wanted to keep her, but we were just kids.”

“Wait, Puck as in the boyfriend from last year?”

“Like I said, we’ve been through a lot together.” Quinn returns her attention to the stove to finish preparing the meal. “Anyway, the dark haired cheerleader is the one I later hooked up with.”

“Well played.” Charlotte take a better look at the photo, particularly at the girl next to said cheerleader. She checks the name listing below the photo. “And that’s Rachel Berry next to her.”

“Sure is.”

“Were you two close then? It seems like you’re pretty good friends now.”

“We try. Back then, though. It was… I was still dealing with a lot. Especially with being sixteen and pregnant. I was kind of horrible and miserable.”

“Really?” Charlotte glances down at the smiling Quinn on the page. “You look like you’re having a good time.”

“I guess I always felt better in glee club. Plus, that was when we’d just won our first competition.” Quinn stacks the french toast on a plate. “I like winning.”

“That have anything to do with the cheerleading thing?”

“It gave me a taste for it, yeah.”

“Can you still do, like, flips?”

“Uh, no. It’s been a while. Plus, I was in a car accident my senior year.”

“Crap. But you were okay, obviously.”

“I was in a wheelchair for a while, but I got over it. I’m going to watch Grey’s, if you want to hang out.”

Charlotte’s handed a plate full of french toast and left wondering how someone just “gets over” being in a wheelchair and then so talks about it so casually, as if it’s no big deal. Then again, she’s already beginning to understand that Quinn Fabray isn’t someone who lets things like teen pregnancy or homelessness or loss of mobility get her down.

In a way, it reminds her a little bit of Stacey.


End file.
